A Ten Tune Problem
by HangSonDoong
Summary: Ten short stories based on songs, written for timed writing practice. Generally romance-focused and slightly poetic in tone. Includes references to Johnlock, Mystrade, and several background or angsty het pairs. *Spoilers for Series 1 and 2*


**A collection of (entirely random) shuffle song-response drabbles. _Italics lyrics belong to the specified artists in the titles. _Characters belonged originally to the great ACD, current incarnations to the Mofftiss Lords. Just playing, thank you!**

**SPOILER WARNINGS THROUGH SERIES 1 AND 2.**

**Thank you for reviewing these, my BigBluePudding beta! **

**Bonus points for anyone who catches the reference to ABC's Castle.**

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><p>Dear Vienna by Owl City for Episode 1.3<p>

_I regarded the world as such a sad sight_

_Until I viewed it in black and white_

_Then I reviewed every frame and basic shape_

_And sealed the exits with caution tape_

"Good Night, Vienna," Sherlock intoned with such sarcasm and mockery, John was surprised he could hear any undertones of amusement. But John could always find that warm rush of excitement for the game, that irrepressible joy, hidden under the surface. Now, he drifted off into his usual mental narrating space, his writing world of black-and-white fantasy...

_Holmes and Watson ran, feet pounding through the streets of an unfamiliar city. _(To John, it felt like being a superhero.) _The cobblestones shone in the late afternoon rain, and puddles caught them, drenching them as they leaned back into the shadow of the Austrian alley-way, grinning._

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><p>Young Hearts by Lonely, Dear for Episode 2.1<p>

_Our people, why_

_Do you think they run away from you?_

_You think you are the worst of kinds_

_Just because you long for so much more_

As a boy, Mycroft had never seen his brother smile. Of course, for part of that time, Sherlock hadn't been born, but even as a too-small, too-pale child, little Sherly was cold and painfully young. Mycroft had bigger things to do than play with a toddler - the gods in the marble halls called him to catch killers (in an entirely different way than Sherlock would one day.) And so he strode past, off to University, leaving a lanky, lonely boy in his wake.

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><p>Never Stop by Jackson Brown for Episode 2.1<p>

_And the world has been showing you how_

_It's no place for your tender heart now_

_In a world that keeps turning you down_

Lestrade knew that he hadn't done the best he could do, with her. He'd seen how she frowned when he got home from work splattered in mud or blood or worse. There were times, early on, when she'd cleaned him up and comforted him. Now, leaning against the open door, she just gestured silently toward the cold chrome of the bathroom. And he would go, without a word. Keeping as quiet as she was, he'd passed her by. Was it without realizing? Not really. He'd known. The look in her eyes changed, but he was surprised that she chose _now_ to act on it. To be passive wasn't his role, but he accepted it gratefully. This wasn't what he wanted anymore. He'd wanted something else for a long time.

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><p>Up Against the Rain by Nanci Griffith for Episode 2.3<p>

_I feel your presence in this room beneath the waning moon_

_It's good to know that dying couldn't tame you_

_You took it on yourself to pave the road to hell_

_Paid your dues and sang the blues, Lord, you knew them all too well_

Margaret Holmes grasped John's out-stretched hand carefully in both of her own. Knowing him well at this point, from all of Mycroft's carefully annotated security records and the stories of this man and her son online, she felt well prepared to introduce herself. But she found herself speaking, instead, of Sherlock, watching the creases around John's eyes sharpen in sadness. She spoke of his childhood, the harsh words of others. He nodded in mention of Uni, of Seb, of all the things Sherlock had weathered in his short life. But Margaret didn't even touch on what she wanted to say most: that just this past year, Sherlock had been better, had been _happy. _John's protection of her son in his last days meant the world, but for the life of her, she'd never say it.

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><p>Dancing Queen by Meryl Streep and Mamma Mia Cast for Episode 2.1<p>

_You're in the mood for a dance_

_And when you get the chance..._

Martha Hudson swayed to the long-forgotten beat. She'd lived in _that _era, after all. Needing no explanation for why her taller tenant was playing ABBA, she just enjoyed its vitality and unusual style from his violin. It reminded her nicely of younger days when life moved at a faster pace and the streets had more color. It reminded her of her boys, the both of them, so fast and colorful they were, brightly shining in the dullness of today's grey.

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><p>Such Great Heights by Iron &amp; Wine for Episode 2.3<p>

_They will see us waving from such great _

_Heights, 'come down now,' they'll say_

_But everything looks perfect from far away, _

From the rooftop of Bart's, Sherlock could see into the far distance, looking out over all of London. And so, even as he gasped and reeled a bit from the shock of the gunshot and the blood and the imminent danger of snipers with more guns... more blood... he still thought mostly of the careful wheels of the plan he'd set in motion. And he was calm. Sure in the fact that the paths he'd followed and notes he'd left would carry out his wishes in his stead. Well, except for one detail. Early on, he'd contemplated letting John join him. There were so many moments where, if he'd reached out a hand to grasp the other man's, and they hadn't split up, hadn't left each other, they could be together now. Together they could take the plunge from this great height.

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><p>Battlefield by Nanci Griffith for Episode 1.3<p>

_I live on a battlefield_

_Surrounded by the ruins of a love we built_

_And then destroyed between us, the smoke has cleared_

_As I stumble through the rubble, I'm dazed and seeing double_

_And I'm truly mystified_

The stones and mortar of 224 Baker Street were spread out in random pits and craters on the sidewalk as John elbowed through the crowd. Pushing policemen and civilians alike out of the way, he rushed with all haste toward 221, searching desperately for a familiar face, and dearly hoping that he wouldn't see it covered in blood on a gurney, like so many he'd seen before. When Mycroft Holmes mentioned the battlefield, and John's evident return to it, in the form of Sherlock's Great Game, John never expected it to be this literal.

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><p>You and Me by Nocturnal Me for Episode 2.1<p>

_You and me are in love _

_And it's easy to see_

_You can tell by the look in my eyes_

_You can tell by the way you smile_

Everyone saw it, she could tell. The way the two of them looked in each other's eyes; there was no mistaking it. So she dropped words and phrases into her speech like "but I am" and "look at us," which pointed with all connotations toward her own consolidation with the unnamed masses who surely voiced their opinions on the matter. But she had an advantage here: she knew the whole truth; that Sherlock Holmes was playing. Playing smart, playing experienced, and John Watson was clearly buying it, because he took that to mean it wasn't his place to make the first move.

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><p>Somewhere Only We Know by Keane for Episode 2.2<p>

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone? _

_I'm getting old and I need something to rely on_

Gregory Lestrade was convinced that Sherlock would find out; Mycroft was less sure. But they both agreed that they needed this. After the chaos of the past few months - a messy divorce and "Jumbo Jet. Dear me, Mr. Holmes, dear me," respectively, a vacation was certainly called for. And well, Greg thought, if Mycroft happened to have a private island outside Venice, there was pretty much no chance of saying no to that. He welcomed so time to readjust to the new someone in his life, and blending into the crowds of tourists as the hot Mediterranean spring began seemed like the just the thing.

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><p>Smoke Along the Track by Emmylou Harris for Episode 2.3<p>

_It'll be here in a minute, you'll wave and I'll look back;_

_I'm gonna leave you crying in the smoke along the track._

_Goodbye, so long, until I come back home you'll be my dream;_

_Goodbye, so long, there's lots of places I've never seen._

Annoying little country jingle, Sherlock thought. He was already in a bad enough mood, having to join Irene in some falsified witness protection scheme of his own invention here in America. Being forced to experience awful _colonial _culture, however, was simply unbearable. He'd never admit that they struck rather close to home, all of these twanging songs about losing a loved one. As much as he recognized the need to sit back as Mycroft dismantled Moriarty's criminal web, all he wanted in the world was to be back at John's side.


End file.
